


see me

by gridgore



Series: the hannibal studies [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Kinda, M/M, Pining, Psychological Analysis, Random & Short, Season/Series 01, Therapy, cuz it’s hannibal, referenced not major
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28884894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gridgore/pseuds/gridgore
Summary: Hannibal holds Will up to the light, inspecting his colour and his life under the cloaking of the sun. Tips the glass his being resides in, rolling the belly of it over and over in its warmth.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: the hannibal studies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118327
Kudos: 10





	see me

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a quick writing exercise to help me learn how to write these two . if anyone has any feedback on characterisation and such, let me know!

Hannibal holds Will up to the light,  inspecting his colour and his life under the cloaking of the sun. Tips the glass his being resides in, rolling the belly of it over and over in its warmth. 

Sat opposite him in that tiny motel room, Will Graham chewing diligently through his meal, Hannibal wonders what is it about him that leaves afterimages under his eyelids. Attractive, yes, undoubtably so- square jaw, curled hair that brushes over full dark eyebrows, piercing blue eyes, red knuckles and bitten nails, gaze always jittery and feverish, a mouth that curves so wonderfully into a quiet smile. That wasn’t it. No, it was the way he looked at him. The way he listened. The way his face twisted with emotion to mirror his own, carefully hidden in shame. It’s as though Hannibal were completely see through, as if Will Graham could look directly through his flesh and see his inner workings and stare straight at them, deciphering his complex inner workings of muscle, organs and mass, chipping paint from a wall, piece by piece. And he lets it happen. Hannibal is so overcome with the desire for his thoughts and feelings to be laid out over that motel table, free for Will to peruse at will, but he refrains. He can shackle the wild animal reaching and pawing for him, keep it calm and tame, but it will never go away; scraping at the back of his brain whenever Will’s fretful eyes accidentally meet his. It leaves him drunk; elated beyond measure. 

Could he? Could he let Will see?

Will stares at the table, eyes flicking back to his plate whenever he dips back in for more to eat. 

Maybe under certain conditions, where he is given the space to voice what is in his head. Let all that excess empathy trickle out, pour out, overflow him, and let the waters carry him to Hannibal’s door.

“Have you ever considered therapy, Will?”

Will stops chewing. He looks up from his plate, distrust and anger very thinly veiled in his eyes. “I’m not sick.”

“No, but nobody said that you had to be.”

“Isn’t that what therapy is for?”

“I am not a doctor, Will, and you are not my patient. You do not have to be sick to enter under my care- I only wish to understand you, and for you to understand me.”

“You could have me for dinner and achieve the same result.”

God knows that Hannibal would love to do such a thing, though he imagines that Will has a different idea than he. 

“I could. However, therapy might satisfy Jack, moreso Alana. She worries for you. But, I will not push you or speak further on this topic if you do not wish. It was merely a suggestion.”

“I don’t find you that interesting.” Will tells him, by way of excuse.

A moment passes by. Will has returned to his food, but Hannibal’s eyes cannot pry themselves away from the movement of his face.

“You will.”


End file.
